Our pediatrician did warn me that there could be possible side effects. But faced with the concept of flying solo across the Pacific from Vancouver to Auckland, New Zealand with my two wee children, I was willing to take the risk.
I drugged my darlings just after takeoff.
Yup. Slipped a little chloral hydrate in with the orange juice in the sippy cups.
Ok. You need the background before you go all judgy on me, thank you very much.
I was about to fly over the expanse of the Pacific ocean with two children aged 18 months and three; both still in diapers. By myself. The normal flight time of this 7000 mile journey is 14 hours but because I was travelling during the peak time of Spring Break the only available flight was the multi city milk run. Our travelling time was a mind numbing 24 hours.
Add in the minor detail that my husband had just died, leaving me to raise our two babies on my own, and I was as lifeless as this weathered specimen above.
Flying Solo Across The Pacific
I was facing 24 hours of potential hell. Multiple diaper changes in cramped, weensy aircraft loos, frazzled, exhausted screamers, crying jags, not enough snacks, rejected food and drink offerings, not enough wet wipes, endless spills and crumbs and jangled nerves and the ever-present threat of frowning, annoyed fellow passengers … all experienced by the pleasure of no backup. Just me. By myself.
Why subject myself?
Because I needed to get away. To save my sanity and that of my family. Nothing was as it was “supposed” to be. A 38 year-old son is not supposed to die before his parents. A husband is not supposed to die after just six and a half years of marriage. A father is not supposed to die before his children can weave together tangible memories.
Everyone was struggling to adjust. The ensuing grief and natural outpouring of sympathy was positively overwhelming. It was as if a crushing, soul leaching blanket had descended, shutting out all air, all light, all strength. My playing field had tilted. Nothing was equal. As foolish as it sounds, it was as if I was suddenly somehow lesser than everyone. All I wanted was to be like everyone else, to blend in with all the other little pebbles and not stand out.
Toss in the fact that I’m loathe to ask for help and we had rather a distasteful soup. But I was beyond blessed. For the last month of his life, my sister thankfully swooped in and took on the task of nurturing our children. She enabled them to live normally. But now it was time for me to wobble back up and grasp their hands, get back to being their mommy and to learn how to parent them alone. Successfully.
Yes, I was suddenly gripped with a fierce desire to ensure that our two children’s lives would not be defined by the untimely early death of their father. I was confident he would expect nothing less.
Where to begin?
Merciful help arrived with a simple phone call from a dear friend.
“Would you and the kids like to come and live with us for a few months?”
Oh dear God. YES.
New Zealand with its friendly people, laid back charm and lush, sheep dotted, rolling hills had long been my favourite country to visit. To be able to escape to this welcoming country far across the sea was just the tonic we needed.
It was the pediatrician who suggested the chloral hydrate drops. They came with a caveat.
“Just be aware that there is the off-chance that some side effects could kick in. They’re not fatal. Just … unsettling.”
Unsettling? Poppycock. I am delighted to report our 24 hour journey via stops in Los Angeles, Honolulu and Nadi was of a truly soporific nature. After guzzling their “Special Trip Juice” my two snuggled into their blankies and slept the sleep of angels. They awoke on the descents and fell asleep on the take offs.
Of course they did.
I was one smug little momma when I sauntered off that plane in Auckland.
And the trip home?
Beyond unsettling.
The first stirrings that something different was afoot began shortly after take off from the Auckland airport. My daughter slipped off to dreamland within minutes. Her brother did not. Now 20 months old, he suddenly bounced up from the depths of his mesh skycot affixed on the wall at my knees.
“Morning, Mom!” he chirped.
“Goodnight, little one.” I smiled, smoothing his ruffled hair.
Such an angel. He nestled into the blanket and drifted off.
Life was good. Reaching for my book, I settled in for a nice long quiet read.
“Morning, Mom!”
Sweet Jesus. Mr. Bright Eyed and Bushy-Tailed was back.
I’ll spare you the torture. Just know that this little jack-in-the-box manifested a textbook case of a chloral hydrate side effect: Paradoxical Reaction. For the entire nine-hour portion of that flight he was wired. “Morning, Mom!” on excessive repeat. Not one wink of sleep until just moments before we began our descent into Honolulu.
I was a different person on the way home. Thanks to the kindness of Margaret and her family, I was strong again. The blanket had lifted due to eight weeks of being treated normally. Not as a bereft widow, not as a suddenly single mom, not as anything but me. Kelly. The mother who drugs her kids.
This confection has been inspired by somewhat related Finish the Sentence Friday prompt of “No One Was Around When It Happened …”
As always, our host is the lovely Kristi . Today’s guest hosts are Lisa Moskowitz Sadikman of Flingo and Jessica Lee of Ramblings of an Add Mommy.
But enough about me and flying solo across the Pacific. I’m curious about you. Would you drug them? Or would you mother them patiently? Ever travelled alone with the kids? Always travel with backup nannies for the nanny? If you’d care to share, I’d love to hear.
40 Responses
Again, struck by your incredible courage and strength at what must have been an excruciating time, dear Kelly.
I have drugged my kids, with similar effect! The flight to South Africa from San Francisco is possibly the very longest in the world and I thought a good dose of Benadryl would do the trick. I have not done it again (the Benadryl or that hellishly long flight!).
Once again, Nicki, absolute confirmation that you and I are indeed kindred spirits. The wired child trapped on a plane? Pure hell.
Oh Kelly. I’m just surprised you weren’t sipping the “Special Trip Juice” too! Traveling with kids for even short plane rides, in the best of circumstances, is never easy.
While visiting my parents when my daughter was three, I gave her cold medicine for the first time. Instead of making her drowsy, it wired her as well. I remember apologizing for her antics over and over to my parents – “she really is never like this, ever”!
I am so glad Margaret knew what was needed to help you get back on your feet. You really do amaze me.
Thank you, Susan. Looking back, I am astonished that I didn’t glug down a jug or two of the “Special Trip Juice” myself. What was I thinking? Grinning over your “she really is never like this, ever” comment. Poor you. I know just what that’s like. The saving grace though was perhaps that she was wired in front of YOUR parents and not the in-laws. Somehow that was always easier for me. And yes, Margaret is a real gem. First question she asked me when I got off the flight was “How can I help?” “Just treat me normally” was my answer. She listened. And then some.
How I felt for you from the opening of not only losing your husband, but traveling with your two small kids for over 24 hours. Seriously, I am worrying about 3 hour flight to Disney this summer and will have my husband with me. So, you my friend are my hero and then some!
Oh thanks, Janine. At the time you just do what you have to do. There really aren’t any options. Just plough on through. Best of luck with your Disney flight this summmer. I’ll be thinking of you! Let us know how it goes.
Wow Kelly, I am so glad that didn’t happened to you on the outgoing flight. Like you said you were stronger on the return. I’ve been on some of those forever flights and it’s no joke. I never saw anyone with babies and cannot imagine having to travel like that as I was irritable and got on my own nerves. I took a motion sickness pill to knock me out of one of the flight. I took it just as we were getting on the plane so that I’d be woozy at take off. THEN of course it was one of the flights that needed to have maintenance. We had to get off the plane and wait. And eventually go to another part of the airport to take another flight. By the time I got from here to there with rubber legs, I was wired and watch the sun go up and down on that flight. It was a horrible tired.
Noooooo. That must have been horrible, Kenya. Oh man – that is a sentence I’d not want. My daughter always takes a Gravol before flying and she gets sleepy from them. She had a similar situation happen to her. Ever since, she takes it once the aircraft is airborne.
SOMETHING always goes wrong on a trip, doesn’t it? It’s just nice that it happened on the way home, when you were better able to handle it.
Absolutely. I always tell my two children “travel with the person you’re considering marrying. First. Before the marriage.” Travel and its unpredictability tend to bring out the truth in us.
Amen! The last time I was brave enough to fly with my kids, I concocted a Benadryl cocktail for Barrett. It worked wonders. And yes, you are the bravest woman I know, I would have never made such a long journey by air, on my own, with kids that young. My hat off to you!
Thanks, Allie. At the time, I was really on autopilot. Doing what had to be done, when it had to be done. I just ploughed on through because there really were no other options. Thank you for sharing your Benadryl moment. I’m delighted I’m not alone in the drugging department.
I chuckled when I read this part, “not as anything but me. Kelly. The mother who drugs her kids.”
I flew by myself to Sydney twice, via Cleveland, LA, and Honolulu. You deserve a medal, a cookie, and a strong drink for making the trek with 2 wee ones! I would have drugged my kids, too. They are just now able to tolerate 8 hours in the car thanks to the magic of the Kindle – and they’re 8 and 11 years, not months. Good on ya.
Thanks, Katy. There really didn’t seem to be an option other that to resort to the wonder of drugs. Your milk run sounds as equally as inviting as ours. That stop in LA is special – especially if you have to transfer to another terminal with all of your luggage. And here’s to Kindle! Yes!
Heck YES I would drug them!!! I’m just glad your flight THERE was blissful… oh am I glad for that. The LAST thing you needed was stress in the 24 hours to get to your freedom, your sanctuary, your refuge.
I don’t care about the meds… what strikes my heart and splits it right open is your story, your devastating tragic loss, your will to survive and your strength in doing just that with two little ones to raise alone.
You are an inspiration. And an incredibly gifted writer, my friend.
I just love reading your posts… they dive through the wires and reach me. 🙂
Oh, Chris. Thank you so much for your very kind words. Tearing up here a little bit. Delighted to read that you’re onboard with the drugging as well. Looking back, I only remember that I was on autopilot. I did what I had to do as there were no options. My husband was a postive, upbeat chap who loved life and he’d surely somehow smote me to the ground if I got sorry for myself at any point. He never once let me see him feeling sorry for himself so how could I?
Kelly, once again you have written from the heart , and had me reaching for the kleenex. Knowing you , as I have the privilege to do, I am in awe of how you have done such an amazing job of raising your wonderful young adults on your own. Your husband would be so proud of you. And yes, I have drugged my children, through flights, and teething !
Tearing up here myself, Jane, over your kinder than kind comments. I value your judgement more than you know. Thank you. And may I say, I am grinning over the fact that you also drugged your children. But of course you did. I’m not in the least bit surprised. Thank you!
Holy cow, you’re my hero! I just did a cross-country flight (Seattle to Philly, and back five days later) solo with my five month old girl. I have to say, it was difficult, but not nearly as bad as I worried it could be. It helped that many (many) strangers were kind, security was easy, and I came prepared with lots of toys and bottles.
Oh, Jessica, I’m with you. I did the same with my daughter when she was six months old. I cannot say enough about the kindness of strangers. Hope you get lots of travel in with your little girl!
Wow! You are brave! — and yes, giving your kids medicine to help maintain sanity is totally acceptable — not to mention the sanity of those around you! I admire your strength and commitment. Thanks for sharing!
Thanks, Laura. It really was a case of just doing what had to be done. I needed to get away for my sanity and my two were treated to a better mommy as a result. As for the meds? I’d do it again, I’d just prep better in case the unofrotunate wired behaviour side effect were to kick in.
I have never flown alone with my kids, but I absolutely would have drugged them for a long flight. There have been times that I wanted to drug the kid behind me who kicked my seat every 10.8 seconds, but I think that would have been frowned upon.
Oh now there’s a blog post. How to deal with the kid behind who’s kicking the seat every 10.8 seconds. My friend flew from Vancouver to the Czech Republic and was treated to a filthy adult foot that kept sliding onto her armrest from behind. She finally slapped it. It never reappeared.
Wow Kelly – I’m glad that the flight out at least went smoothly (and you’d just been through so so much!) but ugh to the one on the way home. When I flew to Greece, I took a Tylenol PM and never fell asleep. I felt horrible the entire flight and the entire next day. Thanks so much for linking up with Finish the Sentence. I so enjoy your posts. Hi to your mom!
Oh Kristi – that must have been dreadful. I can’t sleep on flights. Ever. Not that I’m afraid of flying, love it in fact. But I just can’t sleep. I think it’s all in my head. But still.
Oh Kelly, I want to say what a brave thing it was to up sticks and go live in NZ for a few months, but honestly it sounds like survival, and the best thing for all of you. I hope you returned as ‘Kelly (the mother who drugs her kids)’ rather than ‘Kelly (the poor, bereaved widow [insert PityFace here])’.
Gee, I thought Chris was the strong one, ripping that door out of the wall, but this – this took fortitude at a WHOLE other level.
For the record, I would have drugged them. And myself.
My parents used to drug us with antihistamines just for a good night’s sleep! I guess that explains why we didn’t go on an airplane until we were quite a bit older.
You’re right, Lizzi. It had nothing to do with bravery. It was survival. Ha! Grinning over your antihistamine top up to ensure a good night’s sleep. Reminds me of the time my sister was going out and she had a horrid cold. I didn’t want her to go out and leave 13 year-old me home alone so I gave her a huge dose of cough medicine. She stayed home. Because she was sound asleep for hours. Yep. It was magical.
I’ve tried being that Mom Who Drugs Her Kids. Used Benadryl. Did. Not. Work. Paradoxical Reaction out the ying-yang for Number One Son. He started kicking the seat in front of him. By the end of the flight, I was sure that someone was going to die. Didn’t care whom. I just knew it was going to happen. We finally, finally, finally landed. And the boy fell asleep.
(ooh, I did NOT care for his sense of timing at that point.)
I’m glad that you had a time to heal, both for your children and for yourself. It was clearly the right decision for your family and you.
That’s exactly what happened to my son. “Morning, Mom!” boy fell asleep on landing after 9 hours of wired behaviour. It was horrid trying to wake him up and get him off the floor.
“Ma’am, he needs to be in his sky cot for landing.” Oh really? What a concept. I thought it was fine for a 20 month old to lie prone on the floor during landing…
What an amazing journey to take after such a loss, but I completely understand your need to do it and just feel, as you say, just like everyone else. Yes, I’ve drugged my kids. Unfortunately I learned the hard way about the reverse effects: my older one became hyper, but my middle one totally fell asleep. You win some you lose some 🙂
You win some, you lose some. Truer words were never said.
oh drugging the kids is common esp with long flights so don’t be hard on yourself Kelly esp with the given circumstances
xoxo
Needless to say the side-effect of it can be mind boggling too…so ought to keep fingers crossed…lol
I have seen many kids being given that when some of my friends travel the pacific from the US to India. Oh! well 😉
I’ve learned over the years as a mom that we do what we can to survive. Thanks, Ruchira!
Kelly – you are my hero! What a story and an amazing journey. I have traveled alone with my kids, but only once they were a bit older. And even then I was nervous! I’m definitely not opposed to drugging them :)! Unfortunately, my older son (the red head) always seems to react the opposite way to medication!
My son is a somewhat red head. He gets much redder in the summer. However, when he was “Morning, mom!” pop up boy he was much more of a red head. I’ll bet that played into it.
It is amazing how angels appear when we need them most – angels like your sister caring for your children so you could care for your husband, your friend offering you a haven from the crushing blanket of grief, and your pediatrician suggesting a way to “calm” the little ones on the milk run flight.
You are right, Mo. It is amazing. Looking back now I truly appreciate that. At the time, it was really a case of “click” that’s done, and “click” that’s covered. When in survival mode one just goes from one to another. Perspective and time is remarkable.
Kelly, thank you for letting us see into the pain and difficulty of the loss of your husband. It helps to understand that we’re all in life’s “soup” together and that having a sense of humor as we go about transforming surviving to thriving helps. I adore you, and love reading whatever you write. Can’t wait to hear you tell. (I’d bet ten dollars that you could be a talk show host – you sure demonstrate what being interested and curious looks like.)
Thank you so very much for these kind comments, Susan. I value your opinion more that you know and it just warms my heart. Thank you.